Oh, hello world. You’re still there. Happy to see it!
What I know of the world has been consumed by a variety of heaviness these past few weeks: the stress of relocating the animals, the children, the moving of 1,391 pounds of canned goods we had stored away for winter.
The heaviness of the most snow our valley has seen in the last decade. A steep driveway at the old farm that has made loading from the old house, quite literally, impossible (and dangerous).
The days feel heavy. The sun has made it’s appearance but a few times in the last couple of weeks and instead, the sky sits low to the ground – my mountains and view are non-existant.
…and of course, my heart feels heavy without Tobias here with me. I sat in a cafe the other day, sobbing, hoping nobody would ask me what was wrong. Lord knows they would’ve gotten more than they hoped to hear with a question like that. I really miss my companion on the farm more than I ever could have imagined.
My body feels heavy. The pregnancy has hit that glorious stage where standing up, sitting down, getting out of bed, even putting on pants presents a challenge. I lay in bed last night dreaming about holding that fresh little newborn baby and felt so eager to know it. What would it’s name be? Was it another boy? Another little girl? Who are you baby? I know you so well and yet, I am so anxious to see your beautiful face! By the way, if you could kindly scoot out of my ribs, that’d be lovely. Pregnancy is beautiful and I am thankful for it, but it also comes with it’s difficulties. Holding the other children on my lap and keeping up with daily tasks being but a few of them. I can no longer lift the hay bales or feed bags without Stuart’s help and for an independent, farm girl – that’s a hard stage to get to. I’m not one that cares for feeling weak or dependent. I’m sure the Lord is using this pregnancy to once again humble me in this department, but even still, I find myself resisting. I enjoy feeling capable. And 30 weeks pregnant isn’t allowing for such.
A few days ago, I threw my back out carrying a flat of canned peaches from the old house. I was couch bound for a few days and almost lost my mind. I saw the piles of toys and dirty clothes… the pillows strewn over the floor… the dishes getting crusty on the kitchen table… the mud smears drying on the freshly painted walls and floor. Stuart had to take to carrying the entire load of the farm and the family on his shoulders those few days and it tore me up to not be able to help him. As I lay on the couch that night with my heating pad, he sat by the fire with Georgia playing Go Fish and SNAP. Ever eager to love and serve us faithfully.
Stuart promised me, as I sat in the car weeping a few days back (I told you, pregnancy makes you weird, people) that someday… someday… we wouldn’t have to go back up to the old farm to trudge up the hill in 3 feet of snow to feed the 300 pounds pigs. And someday… someday… the 30 broilers currently living in the greenhouse at the old farm would be dead and in our freezer. And someday… someday… Owen would be able to only wear underwear and we’d no longer need to ask every 23 seconds if he needed to go to the bathroom. And that someday… someday… there wouldn’t be snow on the ground and we’d be able to easily navigate the roads and land.
It might be when Jesus returns, he joked, but it’ll come.
“I want to believe you”, I sobbed, “but I can’t at the moment.”
And then a few days passed. And though things didn’t get that much easier, tasks certainly passed and small victories were obtained.
I got pictures hung on my dining room wall.
My back recovered.
My brother in law helped us finish painting the stairway.
I filled my built-ins with a few of my favorite trinkets and cookbooks.
There are still a million fence posts and plants to move from the old farm, along with iron lamp posts, garden gates, and a few whiskey barrels full of perennials. And bee hives. And picket fencing. And a greenhouse. And all that jazz.
But the Lord has given us many loving hands and hearts to encourage us during these past few weeks. My parents have given up more hours than I can count watching kids, cooking for us, lifting heavy furniture, and unpacking boxes. Friends have brought over meals and invited us into their homes for rest and relaxation. We’ve been encouraged by kind emails and supportive comments from all of you. Each ray of sunshine, both from the sky and from our community, has kept the heaviness from crushing our spirits.
God is good and through this move, good things are happening. But the stretching, growing, and sanctifying process continues to challenge. Though, should I be surprised? I learned long ago ago that it is ‘uphill all the way’. The Lord has not called me to be comfortable, but glorifying amongst the madness. Whoops. Failure. Sorry about that, world.
I’ll continue to sort life away, box by box, painted wall by refinished floor. I hope that I totally don’t fail as a wife, mother, and Christian in the meanwhile. The good news – always – is that even if I do (even as I have) the Lord is quick and consistent in forgiving my many, many, many failures.
And before you try and defend my actions, trust me, there have been many, many, many failures.
Like a lot.
And yet here I sit – eager to share the good, the bad, and the horrendously ugly with you, my friends. Because if we sit back for a moment, breath deep, and admit what’s within – who’s life isn’t a big, ‘ol sloppy mess most of the time anyway?
Today, I chased a rogue turkey out of the pig pen after it knocked the netting down, made an escape into the pig’s nest, and was almost eaten by saucy sow. I had to fend her off with one foot while I balanced in a strange warrior pose while reaching forward on my other foot and grasping down for the turkey that had managed to wedge itself between the feeder and the fence in fear. It felt very reflective of the awkward circus that is life at the moment.
This is moving. This is farming. This is motherhood. This is self-employment. This is trying to build something. This is life.
This is the life that I love.
Even when I hate it.
And Amen.
Courtney Rasbach
February 2, 2016 at 1:46 pmI am in the midst of moving me entire life (not as much as your life, but 4 animals and my stuff) 4 states away right now and I can feel your struggle. Your post came to me on facebook today after I had a mini breakdown after hearing for the hundrth time “you have to give a 30days notice)lol. Mostly, I am thankful for your post and the honesty it brought with the struggles we go through in moving and it reminded me that God sent me on this journey and everything will be alright. Thank You, Courtney
Correne
February 2, 2016 at 1:53 pmI’ve had my fair share of mama, family and kiddo heavy days. Winters are the worst timing for these things. I have no words of advice, only the truth. This too shall pass. New baby will arrive, spring will come and your back will be as good as new. The house will be finished and you’ll never have to deal with that bloomin’ hill ever again. One foot in front of the other and one day at a time. That is all any of us can do.
Laura Wilson
February 2, 2016 at 2:35 pmThank you! I needed that. One foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other, one foot in front of the other……
Sallie Brown
February 2, 2016 at 4:26 pmAMEN
Rachel E.
February 2, 2016 at 5:00 pmHang in there! I know what you are feeling. I am pregnant 35 weeks with our seventh. We have animals to tend to. I have a 2 1/2 year old who I am constantly asking if she has to go, and she has this issue with going after so many days of success. How does a little girl hold it so long? We are talking 14 hours! Ikes – I can’t even hold it 30 minutes with this little guy sitting heavy on my bladder. I have teens with hormones and attitudes, a preteen who is getting to be very irrational, a 7 year old who doesn’t want to listen and likes to scream, and a 5 year old who – well – she is definitely unique. This is our second boy, separated by 16 years almost to the day (if due date is correct). I have nothing ready.
Keep your head up. Like your husband said, things will get better.
Deborah
February 12, 2016 at 8:24 pm@Rachel, I hear ya! And can totally relate. We have 10 ranging from 3 to 23 and I feel more like a referee than a mother.
Julie
February 2, 2016 at 5:35 pmI just love your writing . . . thanks.
Shan Walker
February 3, 2016 at 4:33 amBless your little heart. I was getting a lil anxious just reading your to-do list . Wow! Pregnancy definitely adds a whole new dimension to fatigue, emotions, and workload. Yes, you must remember that this too shall pass and be a memory one day. Until then, do today what you can and do not fret about tomorrow.
Blessings,
Shan Walker {The How to Guru}
Giovanna Becker
February 3, 2016 at 5:16 amThanks, Shaye, for another very inspiring post. You’re inspiring me to be more capable. More resourceful. And even more trusting that things are always working out, even when it doesn’t seem so.
Amy
February 3, 2016 at 6:32 amWe too rent the farm we are currently living on. Considering whether to buy or move to another. Which is largely dependent on how much they want for this one. But, just the thought of moving animals, fencing, feed, etc. is very overwhelming! I can’t imagine doing it will a full belly and kiddos underfoot. Take your time and remember to rest. It will all be there tomorrow 😉
Lizzy
February 3, 2016 at 7:22 amI greatly enjoy your blog. I grew up on a farm myself and hope to be homesteading one day like you! I know its not easy, but it is such a blessing.
I have a suggestion, (not like you need one more thing to do 😉 but I was telling my sister the other day, “The Elliot Homestead should do a video farm/house tour when their all settled in!” It would be awesome to see all the progress you have made, and some things just can’t be capture with a still camera! I imagine spring would be the perfect time of year to do it ( all the scenery and things) and it would give you plenty of time to settle in. Just a humble suggestion!
Also thanks for all you do for this blog, I really enjoy reading it and I like to imagine we would be “bestie farmgirls” if we knew each other! God bless you all and you are in my prayers!
P.s We lost our loyal great Pyrenees this year and I totally understand the way you feel about Toby……
Miley D.
February 3, 2016 at 7:49 amShaye – your stories are a ray of sunshine to the rest of us! I have laughed and cried at my little farm – just keep the faith and the rest will fall into place!
God bless you and your wonderful family!
Barb
February 3, 2016 at 8:38 am1 John has been encouraging me in these dark, wet days with my spirit hoping for spring and yet knowing I am to try to find contentment where the Lord has me. You are an encouragement to me and, thus, to my family. Looking forward to hearing all about the new munchin at your house 🙂
Jim Cohen
February 3, 2016 at 9:30 amI can’t even imagine what it would be like to go through the struggles you and your family have been through as of late. You must be one persevering person to get through all this; with a great Husband, kids and family.The question I would like to ask is why would you choose to do this in the late fall and winter? I guess to be ready at the new place for Spring planting etc. I send my prayers and best Irish Luck to you and your family.
ps I lived in Moscow, Idaho for years and know how brutal the Winter is up there. Very little sunshine until April/May
Shelly
February 3, 2016 at 9:38 amVery blessed by this “confession” :). You are in my prayers!
Jana
February 3, 2016 at 9:57 amThinking of you. Love your raw, authentic writing. Life isn’t all rainbows and unicorns, and it helps to know we are in this beautiful life together. Blessings
Cathy
February 3, 2016 at 10:15 amI have only been reading your blog for a little while now. I can’t afford your cookbook as yet and I live in the city in a cheap and humble house I have done my best to make my own and homey.
I am starting what will most likely be a poor scraggly thing of a garden because I live in the desert with poor soil and don’t have money for proper amendments and am hoping I can turn what it produces into better beginnings for next season. Slow and steady.
I have three children under foot, a 15 year old girl with a mind of her own, an 11 year old boy wanting to be like his sister and a 1-1/2 year old into everything who takes his diaper off and isn’t mindful enough yet to truly embrace potty training.
My first “I love you” from the toddler was generously gifted to my 11 year old son. Yet I am struggling through with those little victories that make it all worth it.
You do an amazing job of finding the positive and seeing opportunity for growth even in chaos, under stress and among huge change and loss.
I love your blog, many times it has lifted me up and helped me point my mind in not only a positive direction but a healthy one as well. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your warm, honest, genuine, practical, sometimes humerous and useful posts. I am somewhat living vicariously through you as I try to create a small urban homestead of my own. Thank you for your courage and enlightenment for as we all have more to learn, you have come far and are passing the torch to me at least.
God bless you and yours Shaye Elliot. “This, too, shall pass”, and spring is right around the corner.
Cathy
February 3, 2016 at 10:24 amOh, almost forgot. I would love if you one day compiled your first blog days into a sort of memoir book?
Just an idea. Have a beautiful day!
Jacqueline Snell
February 4, 2016 at 10:00 amI love your honesty and the raw emotion you share with your readers. I am sure you get asked multiple times if you’ll be someone’s friend. I’d love to be your friend you always come back to Jesus and sure know how to encourage a wanna be farm girl:) the Lord bless you abundantly! Xoxo-Jacqueline
Peacock Orchard
February 7, 2016 at 9:25 amMy adoring husband had no idea how many chickens we had until I got pregnant and he had to go feed them. It’s been a few years since then. He doesn’t know how many animals we have again. 🙂
Stay with it! You can do it!
Rebecca
February 10, 2016 at 8:20 amSobbing while reading this as it feels just like where I am at, minus the pregnancy part. We are slowly refinishing our 200 year old farmhouse and it is old and drafty and cold right now. With nothing more than a small gas heater, some mornings its tough to get out of bed and face the chores. One of my sweet Henny girls was attacked by one of our dogs the other day and I just retreated to my bedroom and sobbed (thanks post-partum hormones.). We have paint cans and ladders littering the upstairs landing because I haven’t found time to paint in the past few weeks.
But, I love how much beauty is here, and can be found. And I certainly appreciate your honesty and encouragement-just what I needed!
Sarah
February 11, 2016 at 8:47 amI need tho thank you for your honesty Shaye. I love reading your blog the most as you are real. You tell it as it is and don’t try to look like some super woman that has it all together for the internet’s sake. You are doing well at what you do though, I must say and though I sit a thousand miles away, I often think of you as I make my way through my day because you willingness to share you life with all of us encourages me and reminds me I am not alone. Because you have shared you life with us you have given hope to so many and in return I pray for you as you make your way through this madness that is life sometimes. I love that you share your faith, unashamed. This post has helped me today as I too am suffering from the loss of a beloved pet and the days have been heavy here too but I know the Lord will see us through. So thank you for the encouragement, I am sending it right back to you! I am praying for those rays of sun that only the Lord can give will shine in your life today and comfort your soul.
Blessings
Tabitha
February 18, 2016 at 6:33 pmThe growing pains aren’t pleasant, but you’re so right! God loves to journey when we just want to arrive already. Cheers to learning to be content in all circumstances!